


Drunk Texts 5: Date Night

by LearnToShareFeanor



Series: Drunk Texts [9]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blowjobs, Erestor sort of tops from the bottom too, Glorfindel tops, M/M, PWP, Pain Kink, Seduction, Stretching kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnToShareFeanor/pseuds/LearnToShareFeanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The much-awaited lemon for Drunk Texts between Erestor and Glorfindel. On Wednesday night, as agreed upon, Glorfindel pays Erestor a 'visit'. Set after chapter 15 of Archer's Notes, but you don't have to read any of it to know what's going on. In true Drunk Texts fashion, this covers the night from Erestor's point of view- and Glorfindel's. </p><p>You heard me. Two chapters of porn. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Date Night- Erestor

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Sex. I mean, this is pretty much it. Sex. Please enjoy and tell me what you think! You can expect the second part of the night- and Glorfindel's POV- soon enough. You have no idea how awkward it was to type this up in my school's library. Just saying.

          I’m sitting on my couch, tossing my remote in between my hands, and wondering if he’ll actually come. On Saturday, he texted me- and been adorably awkward about it. And now, I’m nervous. This is ridiculous! It’s not even time for him to show up.

          I took spring cleaning to a whole new level first thing when I got up, got out the good sheets, and put Daisy outside. Then, I finished a few sketches for one of my monsters in this new series- I’ve decided it’s going to be a prequel to my Hellfire series- and I finished that about 2 hours ago. Since then, I bought candles- Ori gave me that idea. Well, the idea to make sure he knew it wasn’t a one-time thing, anyway.

           One-night stands are easy. Relationships are hard.

           I dug out some leather pants, given to me as a gag gift, my good leather vest- and that’s all I’m wearing. God, it’s going to be embarrassing if he doesn’t show. And Dwalin will probably kill him. That thought, oddly enough, gives me comfort, and I go into my room to light the scented candles. Jasmine and Bergamot- supposed to be good for ‘setting a mood’. I don’t know why I feel that I have to do this  _now;_  I usually don’t bother with long, drawn out things. Then again, I usually pick up my men, women, on one  _very_ interesting occasion, a hermaphrodite- at bars. And beer goggles are wonderful things. Sometimes.

           “Dammit, Res,” I hiss at myself when I straighten my hair and clothing in the bathroom mirror. “You’ve done this before. Stop it.” I don’t know why I bother- if all goes well, my hair’s to end up a rat’s nest, and my clothes are going to be on the floor.

                And then the doorbell rings. I turn the stereo on to something soft and slow- jazz seemed to go over well at the restaurant- and answer the door.

                I’m understandably relieved when I find a red-faced Glorfindel on the other side. “Hello there.” I say, eyes roaming freely over his form. I fight off a smile when I realize he actually _did_ wear the uniform shirt- I’d been joking about that. He swallows, eyes going a shade darker, and my confidence comes back.

                “Hi.” He chokes out, and he has a hard time keeping his eyes on my face. Smirking, I beckon him in with a finger and shut and lock the door behind him. When I turn around, he’s looking at a point lower than the waist; his eyes snap up almost guiltily, and I take a step closer.

                “Are those for me?” I purr, trailing fingers down a _very_ muscular arm.

                He blinks for a second and shakes his head like a dog before handing me a bouquet of roses. How sweet. “Ah- yes. Sorry.”

                Instead of taking the flowers, I brace my free hand on his arm to lean up, share one of those molasses-slow summer night-hot kisses I associate with him now, and play with the top button of his shirt. His other hand grabs my side, pulls me closer- and I’m certainly not complaining. We share a few of them, and by the time we stop to breathe, the roses have fallen by our feet. “Looking is fine, you know.” I breathe into one of his ears after he forces his head back up again. “You can even-“ I pull one leg up, slowly against one of his- “touch.”

                A moment and a kiss later, and he’s taken me up on my offer. I’m pressed up, back against the door with a pair of hands clutching my hips for dear life. When I slide a little and the doorknob makes itself known against my back, I remember that I have a king sized bed, red silk sheets, and candles in my room. I tug on his hair, harder than intended, and I’m rewarded with a low groan. I unhook my legs from around his waist- not sure when _that_ happened- and flick off the lights. My kitchen/dining room/living room combo is now pitch black, but there’s soft flickering from my room.

                His shirt ends up on the floor somewhere along the way, and I pull him by the belt loops to my room. The belt joins the shirt, and I take great pleasure in teasing little gasps and groans from bruised lips when I play with a hardened nipple with my tongue and lose the vest.

                He backs me up until my knees hit the bed and wordlessly, clumsily tries to get my pants off of me. I raise my hips a little and he _whines_ when he realized I’m wearing absolutely nothing under them. Oh, that’s a delicious sound. If I were a musician, I could make _millions_ playing it, I’m sure. “Take off your pants.” I demand, a little surprised they aren’t gone by now. I roll over on my stomach to reach into my bedside table for lube and a condom and smirk when I hear that growl.

                And his hands work up from my knees, kneading up to my ass and stay there for a minute. I’m content to let him- for now- while he place open-mouthed kisses on my back, leading up to my shoulders, and then- “Need you.” He says, then traces designs on my back with a hot, slick tongue.

                “Mm.” I confirm, and pass the condom back. He takes it with shaky fingers while I coat my own fingers in lube and rise up on my knees. He follows, practically gnawing on my neck. It’s tempting to just let him do what he wants, let him prepare me- but I’ve learned after having one too many boyfriends who go too light on preparation or skip it altogether that, until I know how they usually like it, which is rare for me, seeing as we usually have sex all of once or twice, to take it into my own hands. Quite literally.

                I gasp once I have two fingers in and brush against my prostate. It doesn’t hurt that one of his hands has circled around and is stroking my arousal firmly from the base to the very tip and down again. It’s slow- almost painfully so- and I take it as a request for me to hurry up. Another finger meets the other two and he plays with an earlobe with tongue and teeth.

                Finally, I deem myself stretched and pull my fingers out, only to find them replaced by his callused ones. “Couldn’t resist.” He offers as an excuse when I arch my back. Fuck. I don’t _care_ at this point.

                But the seductive play is wonderful, and I allow it, enjoying the feel. His hands- and fingers- are considerably larger. “Yeah? Think you want to put something else there too?” I ask. The question is broken by groans when he curls his fingers just right or squeezes my arousal a little harder than needed.

                His hands leave me and he hurriedly slathers on the slippery liquid before pressing up- and I can feel _him_ , hot and throbbing, just inside. I let out my own whine, head hanging down. “Like this, or- back?” He rasps, and I gasp again as he goes in a little deeper.

                “Back.” I decide- I want to see him. If the rest of this is as good as the foreplay, the night’s going to be wonderful. I hope it is- I’ve slept with one too many who were fantastic at foreplay and either got off immediately or just generally sucked. Women tend to be better in that respect.

                The _twist_ in my insides makes my thoughts disappear for just a moment as I find myself turned on him, like a spit. “Show- off!” I accuse as he lays me down, following.

                Almost immediately, I’m filled almost painfully full, and I observe distractedly that _everything_ must be proportional. And our mouths meet again as he pulls almost all the way out and then slams back in- not where I want him, but still good. I pull my legs up around his waist and the angle puts him closer.

                Sighs and groans are muffled by skin. He doesn’t seem to want to let me go- and I don’t mind. I can feel it building up, and when he shifts again, slamming into my prostate dead-on, I can’t help the cry that it pulls from me or the nails scraping down his back.

                He lets out another loud moan- not for the first time, I wonder if he likes pain- and he comes back again, harder.

                I think- somewhere in there- I made him speed up from the achingly slow (and fucking fantastic- hah. puns) pace of before to something that lets the pleasure build up even more.

                I’ve been told by a lot of people that I’m a ‘wild cat’ in bed. But, as observed before, he enjoys the scratching, biting, arching, and at one point starts thrusting hard enough that my headboard starts smacking against the wall.

                And then, with little warning besides a sudden loss of all rhythm, he comes, leaving me behind with a cry of my name. It’s only for a few seconds, though- his hand grabs me again, and jerks at me until I release all over his stomach and hand.

                For a few seconds then, I’m left panting open-mouthed on the bed while he stays buried inside of me, face in the junction of my throat and chest. We both groan- well, he groans, I whine- when he goes flaccid and pulls out. There’s the wet ‘thunk’ of the full condom meeting the trash can by my bed, and he rolls off of me onto his back. I promptly turn onto my side, smiling at the gasps and shivers that I pull from him- fingers and tongue on still over-sensitive skin.

                “So.” I say into his abs- he doesn’t have a gut, really, and that’s more of a turn-on than I expected. Fuck a 6-pack. This is more like 12. “Still too fast?” I tease with a smile.

                “Mm-mm. Need to make this a regular thing.” He raps, and I smirk again, moving down a little.

                “That’s what I was hoping to hear.” Our eyes meet again when I kiss and nip my way down the trail of slightly thicker hair, occasionally tugging strands with my teeth. I feel him harden against my chest, and without any sort of warning, take him in my mouth.

                ‘ _Definitely proportional’_ I think to myself, flicking my tongue into his slit and then going the rest of the way down. I’m still able to deep-throat him- just barely. And judging by the loud cries and the way I have to hold his hips down, he enjoys the effort. I playfully start humming while I bob my head up and down, and make eye-contact again. His eyes roll a little, and he falls back to the bed with a long, low whine. Within a few minutes of me closing my eyes and savoring him, one hand rolling his sack around, he tugs at my hair in a warning. One which I ignore. I swallow what I’m given, continuing my motions to milk every last drop. When I come up again, he’s lying boneless, like some sort of muscular doll. He makes an odd noise and screws up his face when I kiss him, and I laugh again. Apparently, he isn’t a fan of his own flavor.

                I’m promptly rolled back over on my back, and judging by the way he devours my mouth, the flavor isn’t enough to keep him away. There’s more moaning and groaning, and I’m thinking tonight’s going to be a long night. And a good one.


	2. Date Night- Glorfindel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As promised, the second part of Date Night, from Glorfindel's Point of View. Let me know what you think!

               

                I'm not sure if it's just me, but today has been impossibly slow. The few hours I spent in the gym felt like days, and though I tried to remain professional, I'm betting that I failed.

                Miserably.  
                When I got home, Tauriel was still at school, thankfully, so I took a while to research what was expected of me. Mostly, I found porn. And while it certainly looked fun, and I had to steal the lotion from the bathroom, it didn't show me anything that was- I don't know, useful for someone you don't just want for sex.  
                Don't get me wrong, I'm dying for tonight. But I'm also feeling something besides a hard-on for him. For someone so rough and down on his luck, he's got me wanting to not mess this up. And sex has ruined more than one relationship for me.  
                With that in mind, I take a long shower, use some of the shampoo from an old gift basket, and take a lot more care with my appearance.  
                There's another thing- I never really cared about my looks. Now, if I even think he might see me, I make it a goal to look as good as possible. But also to look like I'm not trying. It's harder than it sounds.  
                After that, I head to the store to get roses- hopefully I'm not teased about them- and a bottle of wine. Red, of course. And then I promptly hit myself when I realize I've bought the recovering alcoholic alcohol. I put it in the back of my truck- I may have some later- and plug his address into my GPS.  
                I wasn’t prepared for the neighborhood I ended up in. The houses are close together, several have unkempt lawns and houses, and- are those _shoes_ on a _power line?_ I thought that was just a thing they did in movies!

                The house I stop in front of is one of the few that appear well taken care of, and when I turn off the engine, I can hear a dog barking. The windows are up high and about a medium size, with iron bars made to look like vines and painted white and green over them. Instead of a normal screen door in between the outside and his door, he’s got an iron door as well with a locking mechanism about the size of my fist. It’s been left undone, so I pull it off and knock on the door.

                ‘ _What if this is the wrong address?’_ I wonder, and the thought seems plausible. He’s smart, funny- he doesn’t seem like someone who would live _here._

                But he opens the door with a smile, and I realize that he _does_. This is shortly before I realize that he’s wearing skin-tight leather pants and I don’t really care _where_ we are. “Hello there.” He says in this weird tone- and _damn_ if it doesn’t get a certain part of me a little more interested than it was. A finger curls back once, twice, and I barely notice when he slips the iron lock home before shutting and locking the regular door. I’m pretty sure I said something back, but- now that I’m here and seeing him, I can’t wait to get in that. The very thought is enough to make me- and then he’s turned around and I at least _try_ to remember some manners.

                And suddenly, he’s in my space, and I could reach out and touch him so easily, but- is this something I’m supposed to- and then he’s almost playfully touching me, and screw it. And him, hopefully. “Are those for me?” He asks in the same tone, and another hand comes up, walking its way up my stomach and to the hollow of my throat.

                “Y-yes.” Crap, I’m stuttering again. I haven’t done that since I was- what, 6? 7? “Sorry.”

                He grabs firmly on the arm holding out the flowers and I’m pretty sure that I’m drooling by the time his lips meet mine. When did we go from occasionally making out to- to this? And why was I so nervous about it? I let him take the lead here, but I’m by no means frozen. At one point, I all but pick him up, and all he does is continue biting my lips, practically devouring my mouth, and- _mm,_ fingernails. Those are good.

                He then proceeds to pick himself up by way of my neck- I barely feel the weight, but I do feel the leg pressing firmly against mine and moving up ever-so-slowly.  I have to fight to pull my head up- I’m fairly sure he won’t appreciate being thrown down on his couch, but- tan skin,  black leather- if I see him too many more times, that’s what’s going to happen. The kisses and nips up my jawline are definitely appreciated, and then he gets to my ears- somehow, I didn’t think I’d like being bitten so much, but there’s no doubt that I do. “Looking is fine, you know.” ‘Not unless you want this to last more than a minute or two’ I want to say, but he sinks his teeth into the sensitive part just under and behind my earlobe, and all I can do is groan. “You can even touch.” _Fuck._

                I almost apologize when I feel the thud from his chest when I shove him into the door, but I’m too busy doing filthy things with that mouth, and _god_ that ass feels twice as good as it looks. Our hips aren’t still either, and I feel a desperate _need_ to be inside. He pulls viciously at my hair, and I can’t help but grind up into him. I’m probably making some noises too, but I’m too busy enjoying the feel of sweet friction to care. The room goes dark, but then he spreads his legs wider, and I could care less about the room. I only stop when he pushes me away a little- I have to wonder what I did wrong and what I can do to fix it because I do _not_ want to leave right now.

                To my relief, he silently starts trying to pull off my shirt. I’ve got no clue where it landed, but his hands are a bit lower- another inch or two and they’ll be right where I need them the most. There’s the jingle of my belt buckle, and I can honestly say that I’ve never put on or taken off an article of clothing as fast as I did my belt and kicked off my shoes. I’m beyond pleased that I decided not to wear the tight boots that have to be unzipped.

                Apparently enjoying your nipples being messed around with isn’t just a chick thing- but to be fair, I’m fairly sure that he could probably bring out clamps or some weird stuff and I _still_ wouldn’t tell him no as long as I get my chance inside of him. His vest hits the floor and I groan as he cups me through my jeans. I only have them unbuttoned by the time I have him on his bed- _finally_ \- and only the tough material of the pants keeps me from tearing them from him. “Take off your pants.” He commands- and I can’t seem to get them off fast enough.

                Oh, and definitive proof that I’m not the only one interested here- as if the hardness I’d been rutting against hadn’t been enough- he’s wearing absolutely _nothing_ under that, and I can only let out a whine. I finally step out of my jeans, and he rolls over- _ooh_ , I _want._

                No, it’s more than a want at this point. I _need._ I kneel behind him and firmly rub circles in the back of his thighs- the twin masks are there, as promised- but there are scars too, things I might need to ask about. Or not. Scars there- they might not be something he’s willing to talk about. I practically mewl when I get his cheeks in between my hands and decide I need to taste some of that skin. He makes a noise- a good one, I think- when I lick up his spine. Tastes as good as he looks. Then- what use are those markings if they’re not appreciated? So I swiftly find out if inked skin tastes the same as regular- it does. And the way he presses up against me is- beyond good. I don’t have words for it.

                “Need you.” I groan, not caring if I’m rushing things at this point.

                He groans back at me and I happily take the condom from him, stretching it over my length. I feel my cock twitch when he starts stretching himself in front of me- I coat my own fingers with the slippery stuff and take hold of his own organ. As slowly as his fingers move- I do too. I can safely say that I have never seen anything quite as erotic outside of porn. I’m probably slobbering all over his jaw and ears, but by the way he gasps and moans, he cares just about as much as I do. Not at all. Hurriedly, I spread more lube over myself. He uses a third finger and- _mm_ , I can’t help it. His fingers slip out and I work mine in. Hot-wet-tight- _God._

                “Couldn’t resist.” I rasp out as an explanation. He arches up against me, head lolling on my shoulder, and I start working on his neck.

                His hips start moving too, pressing down on my fingers and then up into my hand. “Yeah?” He pants, and I groan in response. I move my fingers, and he lets out a cry, bucking down a little harder onto my fingers, which quickly press back up into him. “Think you want to-“ A moan. “put something else-“ A mewl that makes me groan back. “there too?”

                I have an image of myself inside of him- and my fingers, opening him up far more than is natural, and I bucked up against his ass. And then I pull my fingers out and press my cock in until I’m in to just past the large knob. He falls forward, head hanging, and I _almost_ follow him. But then I get the idea to see his face when I’m _in_ him, and I want- “Like this?” I pant. “Or-“ What’s the word? My brain feels like it’s melting. “back?”

                I feel myself slide into him a little more and grit my teeth to keep myself from just pounding in. “Back.” He panted.

                I roll back on my knees, pressing one arm underneath his and turn him around using it. “ _Mmmmmm…._ Show off!” He hisses after a long, undulating moan.

                I huff out a laugh as I press him into the bed and _slide_ in. Then I shoved myself in, deep as I can, and I know this isn’t going to last long. He tugs me down, and I happily attach my mouth to his, thrusting back and forth. He makes little gasps and moans every time I do, and his legs wrap around my hips. This lets me go deeper, and I grab one of those beautiful hips for a little extra leverage.

                I know when I hit his spot- he arches up again and claws me in a way that makes little sparks of pleasure tingle down my spine all the way to my groin. Gasping, I push back in, and out, in and out- “ _Faster!_ ” He demands, and I happily obey.

                I lose myself in between those thighs, reveling in the feel around me, and I feel my release coming when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder- hard. When he clawed my spine, I couldn’t hold on anymore, and came, shrieking his name. He moaned again, and I pulled that long cock into my hand, stroking up and down, occasionally rubbing my thumb across the purple head. It only took a few seconds for him to release as well, and he almost pulled out a second orgasm through me when his insides quivered and squeezed me like a vise.

                I fell forward onto him, wishing that- somehow- I could keep this going for a while longer. I pant, desperate for air, in the hollow of his neck, and he does the same, hand stroking gently over where he’d torn and scratched skin just a few moments before. Eventually, I can’t stay in him any longer- I just slip out- and maybe only me, maybe both of us- whimper at the loss. Swiftly, I remove the now-loosened and filled condom and toss it in the convenient can I see by the side of the bed. Afterwards, I move to my side and then thump ungracefully on my back, still panting.

                A minute or two later, he strokes and licks at my stomach, chest- and my body betrays me, quivering mercilessly. “So.” He says, still a little breathless, as he plays along with the lines of my torso. “Still too fast?”

                I can hear the teasing tone of his voice and smile. “Mm-mm. Need to make this a regular thing.” Just the _thought_ of doing this again is almost enough to get me hard again. Almost.

                His tongue finds one of my nipples again, and then tugs it playfully, nipping and licking his way down. Wait- is he going to? “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

                I can _feel_ his words against the sensitive hairs below my navel and shiver. The pain of the painful jerk against them by his teeth makes me whine again, and I prop myself up to look at him. My eyes meet his brown ones and suddenly his mouth is on me, and I fall back, gasping and thrusting up into his mouth. He firmly presses my hips down and holds them as he does- _something_ \- to my cock, and my mind is gone once I hit the back of his throat. My thoughts only come back after I have my second release and his lips meet mine again, this time coated with the oddly salty and unpleasant taste of- oh, that’s me. And suddenly I’m burning up again, rolling him onto his back with the idea to return the favor. May Thursday never come.


End file.
